Chocolate Ladybugs
by Sonata IX
Summary: Charlie decides to throw his own golden ticket contest to find a companion for Mr. Wonka. A Wilder Wonka fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I needed a break from another story I've been working on a little too intensely, so this is just a light story about Willy Wonka finding love. Feedback welcome, though I'm not overly concerned about continuity details; it's fanfiction, so just pretend that I changed little things deliberately.

* * *

_GOLDEN TICKETS STRIKE AGAIN! ECCENTRIC CANDYMAKER SEEKS AIDE_

_In a surprise announcement yesterday afternoon, Wonka Industries announced the launch of a new hiring campaign seeking a personal assistant for company founder and confectionery miracle worker Mr. Willy Wonka. But don't submit your resumes just yet, ladies; there's only one way to get an interview for what is sure to be a highly sought-after position: find one of the five golden tickets hidden inside a Wonka Bar._

_Readers will likely recall the debacle of Wonka Industries' last golden ticket contest a few years ago. Chocolate bars became a rare commodity almost overnight as citizens around the world began purchasing candy by the truckload. Trash bins and dumpsters overflowed with melting, discarded Wonka Bars as children unwrapped more bars than they could ever possibly eat and abandoned them as soon as they found no trace of coveted gold paper._

_Given the alarmingly wasteful results of the first contest, it seems especially irresponsible of Wonka Industries to repeat this maneuver. Mr. Arthur Slugworth, president of Slugworth Chocolates Incorporated, expressed disdain over Wonka's methods. _

_"Mr. Wonka may know how to sell chocolate, but that says little as to whether or not the product is actually worth buying. I do wonder about the future operation of Wonka's factory, if he continues with this theory that the only necessary skill for his workers is the ability to walk into a store and spend money frivolously."_

_Mr. Charlie Bucket, one of the winners of the last golden ticket contest and the heir to Wonka Industries, had only this to say in response to Mr. Slugworth's comments: "It worked well enough with me, didn't it?"_

_Though only rarely seen in public, Mr. Wonka and Mr. Bucket have been known to exhibit the more intimate traits of a father and son rather than that of a purely work-based relationship. Though Mr. Wonka was unavailable for comment and Mr. Bucket refused to elaborate, one has to speculate; if Mr. Bucket is more to Mr. Wonka than an heir, is this future aide to be more than an assistant?_

_Perhaps instead of golden tickets packaged inside his chocolate bars, Mr. Wonka should have opted for diamond rings._

In his office, Willy Wonka set the newspaper with its startling headline down on his half-desk and leaned back in his half-chair.

"Oh, my dear boy," he murmured, running a hand through his hair, "what have you done?"

Charlie Bucket had a mop of unruly blonde hair that refused to be tamed and he seemed to be constantly outgrowing his clothing. He fidgeted as his mother clucked over his exposed wrists and ankles and tried in vain to comb his hair into something more suitable. He dutifully kissed his grandparents goodbye, all four of them, before escaping from the neat little cottage they shared into the bright sunlight of another wonderful day. He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp morning air, and smiled.

Most thirteen-year-old boys would not be so pleased to be heading off for another day at school, but Charlie did not go to an ordinary school for ordinary children. He went to a special school created just for him by Mr. Willy Wonka, and anything produced by Mr. Wonka could not help but be delightful.

Charlie walked through the gate of the little white fence that ran around his family's cottage and shut it carefully behind him. There was a slight chill in the air, so he took a moment to button his coat and put on his hat.

Then he crossed the wide courtyard and entered the back door of Wonka Industries. He removed his hat and coat and hung them by the door.

It had been very nice of Mr. Wonka to build the little cottage in the factory's back courtyard. It made Charlie's walk to work so short that he barely had time to get cold. It also kept his family safe from prying eyes, after his overnight rise to fame as Mr. Wonka's heir. Even better, it kept Mr. Wonka safe from prying eyes when Mrs. Bucket invited him over for dinner, which she did frequently.

It hadn't taken the Buckets long to realize that, despite having the entire population of Loompaland living with him in his factory, Willy Wonka was a lonely man. Charlie and his family were such sensible, good-natured people that they quickly began to break through the skepticism and bitterness that the chocolatier had carried with him ever since being betrayed by his own workers so many years ago. Mrs. Bucket, though being near to Mr. Wonka's age herself, treated the man as she saw him: a good friend to her son. She showered him with so much affection that Mr. Wonka was known to call her 'Mother' from time to time, and she did not mind one bit.

It was late one evening in which Mr. Wonka had joined them dinner that The Idea first occurred to Charlie. His family had been gathered around the table after the meal preparing for a friendly game of cards. Grandpa Joe was already shuffling the deck while Grandma Georgina and Grandma Josephine's bickering about what they should play had the rest of them in stitches. Charlie had been helping his mother clear the dishes from the table when he'd happened to look at Mr. Wonka and noticed the peculiar expression on his face. He had his elbows propped up on the table casually, his pose speaking of lazy contentment, but something about his face was a little sad and too intense as he watched Charlie's family.

"Charlie," Mrs. Bucket called to him softly. "Don't stare." Charlie accepted the towel she offered him and began to quickly dry the dishes she was scrubbing. "The poor man has been alone without a family for a long time. It must be so hard for him."

Charlie thought about that as he dried another plate. "But he has us now. We're his family!"

Mrs. Bucket looked at Charlie as she wiped her hands on her apron. "So we are," she told him with a smile, enveloping him in a hug that was all warmth and the smell of soap. "So we are."

She let him go and he was alarmed to see her eyes looked a little damp. "I'm so proud of you, Charlie," she said, making him grin in awkward pleasure. She tousled his hair a little. "Now go join your grandpa and make sure he doesn't cheat!"

When Charlie took his seat at the table, Mr. Wonka's strange expression was gone.

Charlie didn't think about The Idea for several days after that, but then suddenly in the middle of studying some paperwork that Mr. Wonka was working on, it reared its head again with a vengeance.

A lot of Charlie's time in the factory was spent following Mr. Wonka around, learning what he did and what went into running Wonka Industries. Mr. Wonka also employed a man by the name of Mr. Wilkinson, who took care of any business matters that happened outside the factory. Mr. Wilkinson tutored Charlie in the more ordinary subjects such as math and literature, and had such a serious demeanor that Charlie could easily understand how he had been able to play the sinister Slugworth during the golden ticket contest. He much preferred school with Mr. Wonka to school with Mr. Wilkinson.

This particular day, school meant reviewing paperwork with Mr. Wonka, which was not nearly as exciting as most things Mr. Wonka did but still easily beat math and literature. Mr. Wonka's office now held two half-chairs and two half-desks, though the halves did not match and Charlie wondered if somewhere there was another room where all the leftover halves were kept.

Mr. Wonka had begun by explaining each piece of documentation to Charlie as they went, but the stack of papers to address was very large and as the hours wore on Charlie became overwhelmingly confused by the wealth of information. Mr. Wonka was clearly becoming frustrated and Charlie wasn't sure if it was with his lack of understanding or with the tedium of handling so much paperwork.

He jumped when Mr. Wonka slammed a piece of paper down onto his desk, adding it to the woefully small pile of completed work. "There!" Mr. Wonka declared, rising to his feet. "I think that's enough of that." He stretched his arms above his head before smiling. "Why don't we go to the Inventing Room, Charlie?"

Charlie wriggled in his seat. The Inventing Room was one of his favorite places in the whole factory. "But," he asked worriedly, "what about the papers?"

Mr. Wonka swept his top hat off his desk and placed it firmly on his head as he frowned at the remaining stack of unfinished business. "Well, it will just have to wait for another day," he said mildly, "A day when new ideas aren't dancing in my head, just waiting to be discovered!"

He held out his hand with a grin. "Shall we, Charlie?"

Charlie couldn't help but grin back. "Yes, let's!" he said, taking the outstretched hand, and they fairly skipped out of the room and down the hall.

Perhaps it was the Inventing Room's fault, being that its purpose was to take tidbits of possibility and ideas and explode them into reality, or perhaps it was that Charlie's idea, _The_Idea, had been at the forefront of his mind in Mr. Wonka's office, but at any rate Charlie did not find himself thinking about wonderful new kinds of chocolates and candies that could be created.

Charlie found himself thinking about Mr. Wonka. Mr. Wonka, who had no family. Mr. Wonka, who was lonely. Mr. Wonka, who hated paperwork. Mr. Wonka, who needed help.

It really was a shame, Charlie found himself thinking, that Mr. Wonka couldn't hire more people to help run the factory. Not hundreds of workers like in the past, he had the Oompa Loompas for that, but a few more people like Charlie and Mr. Wilkinson who could help with the more important matters. Like paperwork. But how would one even go about finding and hiring such a person?

The solution hit Charlie so suddenly that he froze in place and gasped. He'd often seen Mr. Wonka momentarily shocked into stillness when struck by such a marvelous idea, as if the slightest movement might scare it away or make it become too wonderful to bear. He had always wondered what it would feel like, and now he knew.

And he knew exactly how to find the perfect person for Mr. Wonka. After all, Charlie thought, it worked well enough for me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the kind reviews. Any and all feedback is wonderful!

* * *

It was a day like any other at the chocolate factory. Meaning, of course, that it started off with an explosion.

Willy left Charlie to supervise the cleanup and headed towards his office to check his notes. He'd learned long ago to keep his paper records safely away from the Inventing Room or any laboratories. He stripped off the heavy coat and gloves he'd been wearing, carefully folding the coat inside out so none of the ice crystals could escape.

As he hurried around a corner in the hallway, he collided with someone. Someone with too much height to be an Oompa Loompa and too much brown curly hair to be Mr. Wilkinson. He had no reason to expect to run into anyone else besides Charlie wandering the halls of his factory, and though he had left Charlie back in the Inventing Room, it still took him a moment to draw his mind back from his calculations and recognize that this person was definitely _not _Charlie.

With a startled cry, he leapt back until his back was pressing against the far wall of the hallway. The stranger had done the same with a tiny squeak of surprise. Willy noted that his intruder was a woman, nicely dressed and carrying only a small purse, looking not at all suspicious or sneaky like he might expect a spy or burglar to look. His sensible questions like _who are you_ and _how did you get in here _were over-ridden when she began a hasty apology and reached for the things he had dropped.

"Don't touch that!" he barked, lunging forward before she could touch his discarded coat. The girl leapt backwards, flattening herself against the wall again and watching him with wide, terrified eyes. Willy imagined what he must look like, face flushed and slightly panicked, breathing hard, hair even more askew than normal, and made an effort to calm himself.

"Forgive me, dear lady," he began in a much more soothing tone, "but the ice is as sharp as shattered glass." The hand that had previously been raised to ward her off now gently beckoned her forward and he knelt, opening a fold of the coat to reveal the sparkling shards.

The girl peered down at the ice and her face went white. "Oh!" She slid down the wall until with a soft thump she was sitting on the floor. "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean...I mean, I should have-" She shook her head and started again. "I was looking for the washroom and I knew I was lost and I wasn't expecting to just run into anyone like that and I guess I'm a little nervous," she babbled. Her face flushed and now Willy asked the questions he should have asked first.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" He frowned at her as if she were a particularly frustrating puzzle.

"I...I'm Amalda McCaine. Charlie...I mean, Mr. Bucket showed me in." Willy almost smiled at her slip. It was hard to think of an affable child like Charlie as "Mr. Bucket."

"Oh my," he said, trying to decide if he was amused or vexed with himself. "Is it Interview Day already?"

In the two weeks since Charlie's golden ticket scheme had come to light, there had been plenty of time for Willy to become resigned to the idea of having an assistant. He even managed to look forward to not having to deal with mountains of tedious paperwork anymore. But he had stubbornly distanced himself from the reality of having another person who would regularly be inside his factory, his sanctuary, and what the process of hiring and training such a person would entail. Now here sat one of his five applicants, the others doubtless waiting elsewhere within the factory walls, and he found himself completely, woefully unprepared to deal with any of them.

The girl, Amalda, still sat across from him, huddled on the floor, and this at least Willy knew how to handle. He rose and stepped to a panel on the wall, folding it down to reveal an instrument that appeared to be the horn from a gramophone connected to shiny tubing that disappeared into the wall. "Charlie," he spoke into it, and his voice echoed throughout the factory. He heard Amalda gasp behind him. "Where have you placed our guests?"

After a brief pause, Charlie's voice echoed back to him. "In the Cloak Room, Mr. Wonka!"

"Of course," Willy murmured to himself, folding the device back into its niche. "Come along, Ms. McCaine." He carefully gathered up his coat and held his free hand out to Amalda. She hesitated only a moment before taking it and allowing him to draw her to her feet. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as he led her down the hallway.

"Please, call me Amalda," she said almost immediately. Willy nodded but did not give the expected reply. He wasn't sure if he wanted his assistant using his given name, nor did he know if Amalda would be the one to get the position.

After an awkward pause, she moved on to a new subject. "What _was _that?" she asked, gesturing towards the wall.

"That was the Wonkaphone," he replied mildly. "I'm only one person. I can't be everywhere in the factory at once."

He was sure that the word _Wonkaphone _didn't mean anything to her, but she only asked, "Is that why you're hiring an assistant?"

"Oh, no," he replied with a mischievous grin. "I want someone to do all the unpleasant things that I don't enjoy doing."

They reached the entrance to the Cloak Room before she could respond and Willy found that five chairs had been set up on the small platform where he'd displayed his ridiculously massive contract to a group of children a few years back. An array of hats and coats already hung from the hooks on the opposite wall and he was momentarily disappointed that he'd missed the fun of witnessing that. Again he thought nostalgically of the last time he'd entertained guests...or they'd entertained him.

Four of the five chairs were occupied and Willy bowed properly over Amalda's hand before releasing her to the fifth chair. The other women were sending glares with varying degrees of vitriol at her back as she hurried to take her seat. Women, Willy remembered, could be so much crueler than children. As those assessing eyes focused on him with unforgiving intensity, he found himself frozen just inside the door with no idea how to proceed.

At that moment Charlie skidded into the room, breathless and carrying Willy's hat, coat and cane. "Sorry, Mr. Wonka," he said, holding up the coat to help Willy into it. "I let them in while you were working. And I put copies of the interview questions on your desk. Everything's been prepared, _just as you said_." Charlie caught Willy's eye and nodded, and Willy marveled at his young apprentice. He had clearly planned out everything.

Accepting the cane and placing his hat firmly on his head, Willy felt more confident. "Thank you, Charlie," he said mildly. "We'll discuss it later. And no more inventing today," he added.

Charlied sighed, "Yes, sir."

"So!" Willy declared, facing the women with more confidence. At least three of them jumped and slid back in their seats, obviously not expecting his changed demeanor. "Who wants to go first?" he asked, pacing the line of chairs.

"Me."

A hard voice, practically cutting over his words, spoke firmly before the other women had barely registered what he said. Willy raised an eyebrow as he turned to face the woman on the far left. She had risen to her feet, fists planted firmly on her hips and radiated such a presence that one almost overlooked her petite size. Dark hair cut in a severe bob and a sensible pantsuit and jacket completed her a no-nonsense attitude. With a slight bow, Willy gestured towards his office and she walked to the door confidently.

"Ladies," Willy said with nod of his head to the others.

As he stepped into his office, he had to slip around the woman. She had stopped just inside the door and now raised both eyebrows at him. "Is this a joke?" she demanded, gesturing to the half-chair that sat before his half-desk.

"Why, is it funny?" he asked with extreme innocence, pretending not to see her scowl. He took his half-seat and gestured to the other half-chair. "Please be seated," he said politely.

She frowned at the half-chair. "I'd rather stand," she said shortly.

"As you wish," he replied absently, scribbling on a piece of paper. "Doesn't...follow...directions," he murmured.

He heard her snort and the half-chair creaked as she sat down none too gently. "Cute. Don't play games with me, Mr. Wonka. If you want a skilled, hard-worker who will get the job done, let's talk business. Otherwise there are four other pretty faces out there who will follow you around and smile."

Now it was Willy's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Jeannie Lauper," the woman introduced herself with a tight smile and a firm handshake. "I've worked for three of America's top industrial companies, worked my way to the top too."

"And why did you leave those companies?" he asked curiously.

Jeannie gave him a feral grin. "Boys don't like being bossed around by a girl."

Willy barked a nervous laugh. He felt that this woman was already trying to size him up, get his measure, put him in a box, and several other phrases he'd rather not apply to himself.

The interview questions from Charlie sat on this desk. There was actually only one question and Willy smiled at how well the boy knew his mentor. One simple question could tell him so much about each person.

"So," he said with deceptive casualness, resting his chin on his hand. "How did you find your golden ticket, Ms. Lauper?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay, my dears. I was on vacation for a bit and I always think I'll have lots of time for writing on vacations but it never happens. But at least part of my trip included a visit to Hershey Park, perhaps the closest thing one can get to the Chocolate Factory!

* * *

Charlie did not think the interviews were going well.

He had pulled up a chair outside of Mr. Wonka's office, trying hard to ignore the curious looks of the women. After each interview, Mr. Wonka handed him a single sheet of paper with his notes on it.

Jeannie Lauper, the first candidate, had an impressive resume...perhaps too impressive for the kind of menial work that was being offered. Mr. Wonka wrote that she was aggressive, bossy, and would not get along well with the Oompa Loompas, but she had found her ticket while buying candy for her nieces, so perhaps she had a gentler side once you got to know her. As Mr. Wonka showed her out of his office, Charlie saw that his mentor was wearing the false smile that he used so often around people he did not care for.

Selda Aranack, the second candidate, was even worse. Ms. Aranack was petite like Ms. Lauper and had her dark hair cut short like a man's, but it was feathered around her face to give her a delicate, youthful appearance. She smiled kindly at Charlie as she passed him, but at the end of the interview Mr. Wonka was frowning. Charlie quickly scanned the notes and saw the problem immediately. Ms. Aranack's two favorite things in the world were vegetables and exercise. She refused to answer any of Mr. Wonka's questions and instead launched into a passionate speech about how terribly unhealthy chocolate was and what Mr. Wonka could do to make it more nutritional. Charlie doubted she was really even interested in the job.

Things improved a bit with the third interview. Belinda Stolp was a burly, curly-haired Frenchwoman who boasted about her cooking skills and her prowess in the bakery. She tried different chocolates each week and decided that Mr. Wonka's were the finest. She wasn't at all surprised that one of her regular trips to the candy store had resulted in a golden ticket and believed she'd make a fine addition to the factory. She seemed to think she'd be concocting new recipes, not filing receipts. Mr. Wonka thought some of her ideas actually had merit, but the goal was to find a secretary, not someone to share his laboratory.

Charlie mulled the idea over silently. It was very unusual for Mr. Wonka to consider allowing anyone other than Charlie and the Oompa Loompas more than a brief glimpse of his Inventing Room. Charlie was not sure he liked the idea. It was one thing to hire someone to handle tedious paperwork; a person with access to the Inventing Room could easily ruin Wonka Industries. He resolved to keep a close eye on Ms. Stolp while she was inside the factory.

A muffled crash from behind the closed door of Mr. Wonka's office interrupted his thoughts.

* * *

Willy thought the whole interview concept was useless. What a terrible process of getting to know someone! He should never have let Charlie talk him into it. He contemplated whether avoiding the pile of unfinished papers on his desk was really worth all this fuss. Deciding glumly that even Vermicious Knids were more appealing than paperwork, he pasted a smile on his face and turned lady sitting across from him.

"So, Ms. Weston..."

Ms. Weston was no longer where he had left her. She was much, much closer.

She had drawn her chair up next to him, her knees almost brushing his as she crossed one leg elegantly over the other. The hem of her silky dress slid a few inches upward at her movement. She leaned towards him in a way that made her low-cut neckline seem to plunge even further and watched him from under lowered lashes.

Willy slid his chair back an inch and cleared his throat, his eyes darting for a safe place to focus on. Everything about her fluttered and teased him. He found himself staring at her hair. It was long and blonde and smooth like honey, falling in thick waves and curls around her shoulders.

Honey went well with chocolate.

"So, Ms. Weston," he began again, valiantly ignoring the way his voice had jumped in pitch.

"Mary Sue," she purred, sliding forward in her seat until their knees bumped again.

"Ah, y-yes," he murmured. "How did you-" She reached out and _put her hand on his leg!_"-find your ticket?" he finished in a rush.

"Oh," she said absently, her other hand reaching toward him. "My daddy got it for me." She leaned forward to touch his hair, tousling the curls as she ran her fingers through them. Willy sat frozen in astonishment bordering on panic. "I'm sorry," she said coyly. "I just couldn't resist."

Aware that she was now practically sitting in his lap, Willy fumbled for the next question. "What-" She was still leaning closer. "What do you-" Her gaze, brilliantly blue, met his from inches away. "What..." _Was she actually going to..._

As her eyes fluttered shut and he felt her warm breath across his face, Willy finally snapped free of his stupor. He tried to shove the woman away but she had tangled herself up in him so much that his efforts only made her rock and jiggle against him in entirely inappropriate ways.

"Oh, Willy!" she giggled and grabbed his head, kissing him forcefully.

"Mmmph!" he protested, flailing wildly. The world spun into a haze of unpleasant warmth and expensive perfume and then Willy found himself lying flat on his back.

The door to his office flew open and Charlie gaped at him from the doorway. Ms. Weston was straddling his hips and managing to look both beguilingly embarrassed and supremely pleased with herself at the same time. The chair they had spilled out of was lying abandoned on its side.

"Charlie!" Willy gasped pleadingly and the boy immediately strode forward to pull the woman away off of him. She tittered as he helped her to her feet, making a rather obvious attempt to stumble and draping herself across his apprentice in the process. Charlie turned beet red and Willy _saw _red. Charlie was just a boy!

"_OUT!_" he roared, causing both Charlie and Ms. Weston to jump. The silly girl detached herself with a pout and slunk out of his office. Willy followed Charlie to the door and glared balefully at the women who were watching him with astonished expressions. He could see them assessing his disheveled appearance and was suddenly disgusted with the whole operation. "All of you," he said firmly. "Out."

Nodding at Charlie he turned away, straightening his clothes and leaving the group to be escorted out by his very capable apprentice.

"Ah...thank you all for coming today," Charlie began tentatively. "If you'll just come this way, we'll have a brief tour of the factory before you leave."

His very capable _overachieving _apprentice, Willy grumbled to himself. The tour had also been Charlie's idea and though Willy was looking forward to getting a better impression of each of the candidates, now he was glad that he had let Charlie do all the planning. He wanted nothing more to do with such a ridiculous group of women.

* * *

Charlie led the way down the hall into the factory, trying to collect himself. The interviews were a very, _very _bad idea, he decided. If only he hadn't let those newspapers draw their own conclusions about exactly what kind of 'assistant' Mr. Wonka was interested in! Glancing over his shoulder, he was pleased to see that Ms. Weston was at the back of the group and very clearly not interested in pursuing him as she'd pursued - no, _attacked _- Mr. Wonka.

He also noticed that there were only four people behind him.

Showing the ladies quickly into the Beverage Room, he instructed them to help themselves to the refreshments and hurried back the way he'd come. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the missing woman still inside the Cloak Room. About to call out to her, he hesitated in the doorway. This was the only woman who had not had a chance to be interviewed.

She was dressed more casually than the other women, in a simple blouse and vest with tennis shoes peeking traitorously from under her serviceable tan pants. She was nibbling at her bottom lip as she stepped slowly but determinedly towards the open door to Mr. Wonka's office.

"Mr. Wonka?" she asked uneasily from the doorway. Charlie edged into the room a bit so he could see what was happening. Inside his office, Mr. Wonka had slumped over his desk, his hands buried in his hair.

Without moving, he replied, "I thought I told you to get out." Charlie flinched at the mild tone which he knew barely masked an explosion.

"I...I would like my interview, sir," she said, politely but firmly. She sounded humble, something he would not have called any of the other applicants.

"I'm so sorry," came the completely unapologetic retort. "I don't care for the way _interview _is defined these days."

She stiffened. "Maybe you shouldn't print the instructions shiny golden paper if you don't want people to be blinded by it," she said curtly, spinning on her heel.

While Charlie was still trying to understand that cryptic reply, Mr. Wonka lifted his head from his hands and half-turned. "Ms. McCaine?" he called. "How did you find _your _'shiny golden paper'?"

Ms. McCaine froze and her face flushed unexpectedly. After a moment of frantic silence, she squeaked something quickly and then stalked out of the office, past Charlie and into the hallway without pausing.

"What did she say?" Charlie asked, poking his head into the office curiously. Mr. Wonka had the most unusual expression on his face, a strange mix of puzzled bemusement and uncertain laughter.

He tilted his head to one side, looking a bit like a small child who had been given a nonsensical riddle to solve.

"She said...I think she said she took it from a gorilla."

* * *

**Author's Note:** If you have any suggestions or requests for things they might see in the factory, send them my way! It's hard to find the right combination of whimsical, unusual and a bit scary that is Wonka's factory.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Your reviews made me giggle! Loved hearing your reactions to Mary Sue and Amalda's interviews.

* * *

Charlie led Ms. McCaine to the Beverage Room where the other women were waiting. Noting that they had already helped themselves to the punch, he filled a cup for Ms. McCaine and took it to her where she stood a little ways from the others.

"Thanks," she muttered, staring at the floor.

"No, thank _you_," Charlie said with a smile. "That was exactly what Mr. Wonka needed." She frowned and looked up at him. He gave her a nod and then, seeing the others watching, moved quickly away.

Charlie hadn't had a lot of practice when it came to hosting guests. Taking a deep breath, he did his best impression of Mr. Wonka's flamboyance.

"Ladies! Now that you've all sampled the punch..." He gave a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows and several of the women glanced at their empty cups. "...it's time to plan our tour. Now, I could just _ask _you what you'd like to see, but of course you don't really know everything about anything that's everywhere...er...here..." He frowned into space for a moment and decided it was best just to move on. "...So please take a pair of glasses and step onto the podium!"

He gestured to the plastic case that held several pairs of what looked like white, plastic sunglasses. When none of the women seemed eager to go first, he beckoned to Ms. McCaine and she stepped forward hesitantly. He presented her with a pair of glasses and helped her step up on the podium near the center of the room. The lights in the room dimmed automatically and a light began to glow on the far end of the wall.

"The punch has a chemical in it that communicates with the glasses," he explained. "It determines what would interested you most in the factory and helps you visualize it. Tell us what you see," he urged Ms. McCaine.

"I...I see a park, except the trees and bushes and everything are made out of candy. There's a river and a waterfall that look like they're made-"

"Made out of chocolate?" Charlie interrupted. The women gasped as the lenses in the glasses began to glow and a picture formed on the wall, as if projected straight from Ms. McCaine's eyes. "You would have read about that in the papers after all the kids were here. That's the Chocolate Room, an excellent choice." He had already planned to stop there first.

After allowing them to study the image for a moment, he helped Ms. McCaine down and Ms. Aranack, the health nut, took her place. "I see...plants! And windows. Lots of light."

"The Greenhouse," Charlie guessed, as the picture began to appear. It was only a short ferry-ride from the Chocolate Room, so it would be a good second stop.

"You have a greenhouse here?" she asked in surprise.

"Of course," Charlie said matter-of-factly. "Chocolate comes from plants." She looked thoughtful as she stepped down.

Next up was Ms. Stolp and it was no surprise to Charlie that she wanted to see the Inventing Room. Charlie decided to save it for last, in hopes that the chaos from earlier would be cleaned up and safely under control.

Ms. Weston stepped up next and Charlie tried not to cringe as he took her hand to help her onto the podium. "I see," she began, licking her lips daintily, "a large picture window overlooking the city. A bed..." The picture began to appear and it was indeed dominated by a large window. From one corner of the picture, the end of a four-poster bed was visible. The posts were twined dark and light wood, looking vaguely like spiraling chocolate monoliths, and the lumpy, pale blue bedspread managed to appear both warm and fuzzy _and _light and fluffy.

"Is that...cotton candy?" Ms. Stolp asked, touching the image on the wall as if she could feel the blanket's unusual texture.

Charlie cleared his throat. "That's...that's, um..."

"Not part of the tour," said Mr. Wonka.

The group turned as one to see the chocolatier lounging in the doorway. He had his top hat tilted at a jaunty angle and seemed to have recovered some of his poise.

Ms. Weston snatched off her glasses and the image vanished. "Is that..._your _room?" she sighed dreamily, stepping down from the podium. Before she'd managed a second step, Ms. Lauper and Ms. Stolp stepped between her and Mr. Wonka, blocking her path with folded arms and twin glares. Mr. Wonka looked pleasantly surprised.

Ms. Weston pouted and cast a quick glance Charlie's way, but Ms. McCaine, who was closest to him, stepped up to his shoulder in a show of support. He gave her a grateful look.

"My turn," Ms. Lauper said flatly, holding out her hand authoritatively for Ms. Weston's glasses. She handed them over with a sniff and stepped aside. Ms. Lauper stepped up and settled the glasses on her nose. "I see lots of people," she said after a moment. "Little people."

The picture that appeared on the wall showed neat rows of small buildings, with narrow streets between them and several orange-skinned folks in strange clothes going about their daily business. The other women gathered around the wall to see. "What did the papers say they were called? Oomples?"

"Oompa Loompas," Charlie corrected. "That's the Oompa Loompa village."

Ms. Lauper grunted. "Makes sense. Want to check out the workers," she said to herself.

Charlie glanced at Mr. Wonka. The Oompa Loompa village took up the north side of the factory and was hard to reach. No outsiders had ever seen it and Charlie wasn't sure how the Oompa Loompa's would feel about it. Mr. Wonka nodded to his apprentice. "We'll take the glass elevator," he told the boy, and Charlie grinned. The glass elevator was his favorite way to travel.

Several of the people in the picture had moved closer and actually seemed to be watching the group watching them. "Can they see us?" Ms. Aranack asked, edging back from the wall. Charlie shrugged.

One of the young Oompa Loompa women waved. Ms. Lauper half raised a hand uncertainly, then snatched the glasses off her nose instead. The glowing image faded and the overhead light brightened. "Very observant, Oompa Loompas," Mr. Wonka remarked.

"Will you be joining us on the tour, Mr. Wonka?" Ms. Stolp asked politely.

Mr. Wonka raised an eyebrow at Charlie, then let his eyes wander across the women, lingering with a curious gleam on Ms. McCaine. "Yes, I suppose I will," he murmured.

"That's great!" Charlie cheered before remembering he was supposed to be in charge. "Shall we begin, ladies?" he asked, gesturing to the door with an exaggerated bow.

Mr. Wonka stepped back, indicating the direction, and the women filed past. Ms. Stolp and Ms. Lauper flanked Ms. Weston on either side, preventing her from accosting Mr. Wonka again. Ms. Aranack and Ms. McCaine followed with Charlie and Mr. Wonka bringing up the rear. Charlie noticed the bemused smile on Mr. Wonka's face with relief.

* * *

"I seem to have acquired some protectors," Willy murmured to Charlie. The boy grinned at him before hurrying to the front to lead the way.

While Willy still wasn't sure if any of the women would work as employees, at least some of them were proving that they weren't completely hopeless. He frowned at Ms. Weston's back, wishing he'd had a way to exclude her from the tour.

Ms. McCaine, walking in front of him, momentarily blocked his view of the offending woman and Willy thought again about her aborted interview. What _had_ she meant about the gorilla? He wished he could ask her, but she'd seemed so bothered by it...and he didn't want it to look like he was showing favoritism to any of the women. Not _yet_, anyway.

Charlie led the group to a different entrance than the one Willy had led the children through years ago. Though still barred with a musical lock, the large double-doors were set into a wall at the end of a perfectly boring hallway that stayed the same size from one end to another. The doors, dark wood with impressive black metal latticework, made an admirable attempt to make up for what the hallway lacked.

Charlie stopped before the doors and gestured the group to silence. With great solemnity, he pressed the four ancient-looking levers on the door in a specific sequence. Several of the women jumped as the sound of a grandiose pipe organ echoed through the hall.

"How in the world do you fit that much sound into a _door_?" Ms. Lauper grumbled as the doors unbarred with a heavy clank.

"Ladies," Charlie said, looking over his shoulder with a twinkle in his eyes. "I give you...the Chocolate Room." He placed both hands on the heavy doors and slowly pushed them open.

The women crowded past Charlie onto the landing with gasps and murmurs of delight as they got their first look at the room they'd heard so much about after the first Golden Ticket contest. The newspapers had interviewed each of the guests after their visit to the factory and all had spoken extensively about the marvelous room where everything was edible.

Willy strolled in behind them, exchanging a knowing glance with Charlie as they pushed the doors shut together. "It seems like only yesterday," Willy began, with a fond smile for his apprentice.

"I know," Charlie said, looking sheepish but pleased. "I still remember that day whenever I come in here."

"What did you think, the first time you saw this room?" Willy asked curiously.

Charlie looked around at the idyllic setting and inhaled the unique scent of nature and candy. He listened to the astonished comments of the women and thought back to when he had stood where they were, when he had been the one staring in awe at the most beautiful place he had ever seen. He felt a thrill at the memory of that first moment of delicious discovery.

Charlie sighed happily. "I thought it was _magic_."

* * *

It had to be magic.

Even after reading the stories in the paper, Amalda couldn't believe that this room could be real. It was _huge_, with quaint winding paths, trees that offered shade from the artificial sun, and bushes that sprouted every kind of candy imaginable. And every bit of it edible.

Ms. Stolp and Ms. Aranack, an unlikely pair, were already examining one of the nearest bushes. Ms. Stolp had a mouthful of candy berries and Ms. Aranack was fingering the leaves, remarking on their realistic texture and scent.

Amalda took a few steps forward, leaving the path behind. Without a thought for what the others would think of her, she kicked off her shoes and let her toes wriggle on the soft green blades of grass. She wondered if it was edible too, and if so how Mr. Wonka kept it from melting when someone like her walked on them with warm, bare feet.

Both the chocolatier and his apprentice had joined Ms. Stolp and Ms. Aranack, fielding the bevy of questions the women were tossing out. Checking that Ms. Lauper had Ms. Weston well in hand, Amalda picked up her shoes and strolled casually away from the group. She picked a candy apple from a tree as she passed, enjoying the tart, juicy flavor.

It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for. Settling on the bank of the chocolate river, Amalda stared at the chocolate waterfall with appreciation. How in the world did one even come up with the idea of mixing chocolate by waterfall? She giggled at the idea of a wild-hair Mr. Wonka tumbling over a waterfall in a barrel, yelling "Eureka!" even as he plummeted.

She was leaning forward to dip a finger in the chocolate river when a voice said softly, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Amalda jerked her hand back and looked around to see Mr. Wonka standing not far behind her.

"If you read the papers, you remember what happened to the last person who touched my chocolate."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Well my dears, I'm not dead. I thought about you almost every day! But my life has gotten a bit crazy, as life has a tendency to do. Kudos to FancyFreeThinker101 for giving me a kick in the pants earlier this evening and to Teji for making me melt a little. Sorry to keep you all waiting this long.

Credit to Neil Gaiman's Stardust for a bit of inspiration in the middle of this chapter.

* * *

_She was leaning forward to dip a finger in the chocolate river when a voice said softly, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."_

_Amalda jerked her hand back and looked around to see Mr. Wonka standing not far behind her._

_"If you read the papers, you remember what happened to the last person who touched my chocolate."_

* * *

Chapter 5

Amalda scrambled to her feet as Mr. Wonka approached, slipping a bit on the grassy slope. His face was a blank mask and she couldn't tell if he was teasing her or not.

"If you don't want people to touch it, you really shouldn't put it in a room where you tell people everything is edible," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Eatable," he corrected, "not drinkable." He stopped in front of her, hands clasped on top of his cane as he tilted his head to look at her.

"That's a silly little technicality to expect everyone to catch," she scoffed. "We can't all be as clever as the great Willy Wonka." Her tone had been light and bantering, but Mr. Wonka continued to simply stare at her. "What?" she asked uncertainly.

"You are a puzzle to me, Amalda McCaine," he said softly. When she opened her mouth to reply, he shook his head and continued. "Two of the women here are looking for jobs, though not the job I have available. One is not interested in a position at all and the last is seeking a position she could never hope to fill. But which are you?"

Amalda realized her mouth was still open and she shut it quickly. Mr. Wonka took another step closer, close enough that she found herself absently noticing the little details she would not have otherwise, such as the exact color of his blue eyes and how she had to look up just slightly to meet them.

"Which are you?" he murmured again, searching her face as if it would give him some clue as to her intentions.

Amalda bit her lip and watched his eyes stray towards the motion. In a voice equally quiet, she replied, "Thus far, you've made it very clear that there is only one job available here and it is _not _the one the newspapers have been speculating upon so wildly." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Though now you're starting to make me wonder."

Mr. Wonka raised an eyebrow. "And _I've _been wondering-"

The lights went out.

In the pastoral setting of the Chocolate Room, it was as if someone has switched off the sun.

The sudden darkness surprised Amalda, but it was the simultaneous shrieks of the other women, one sounding unusually close, that made her jump. While she had been aware on some level that the candy grass was slippery, she hadn't _really _noticed it until one of her feet skidded out from under her, and then she realized in a moment of panic how perilously close she was to the chocolate river.

Her breathless gasp was lost to her own ears, but somehow Mr. Wonka must have heard it, or else he had exceptional night vision. He caught her elbow in a strong grip and her flailing arm wrapped around his, clinging desperately. "There, there," he murmured as she caught her balance.

Then, absently, "Charlie must be showing them the night settings." She felt more than saw him turn his head upwards. "And he's forgotten that we harvested the stars last week."

"What?" she gasped, feeling completely off balance, literally and figuratively..

She felt Mr. Wonka moving again and then a spritely melody echoed through the darkness. Almost instantly, a light appeared across the room and began moving toward them. As the figure drew closer, Amalda realized it must be an Oompa Loompa. Reaching them, the Oompa Loompa flipped the light in his helmet around to illuminate his face. The shadows cast his face in an ominous leer and Amalda struggled to remind herself that it was only a trick of the lighting.

Mr. Wonka bent down to talk to the Oompa Loompa. "Charlie's showing off for our guests," he explained. "Have you seeded the sky since the last harvest?" The Oompa Loompa shook his head and grinned, looking extremely evil. "The helmet lights need some work," Mr. Wonka murmured to himself. "Bring some star candy for everyone," he instructed.

The Oompa Loompa reached into his pocket and pulled out a bulging bag. Mr. Wonka took it and shook a generous amount of what looked in the dim light like sand into his hand, then passed the bag back. The Oompa Loompa twisted his light back to the front and headed towards where Amalda guessed Charlie was waiting.

"What is that? What's star candy?" she asked curiously.

"Hold out your hand," he told her and Amalda lifted her free hand, the one not clutching Mr. Wonka's arm. He tilted some of the sand into her cupped palm and she was surprised to find that it had a rough, crystalline texture.

"Do I...eat it?" she asked uncertainly.

He chuckled. "Stars aren't for eating. At least, not _yet._Lift up your hand, like this." He wrapped one arm around Amalda's shoulders and lifted the other towards the darkened sky. Amalda mimicked his motion, holding her hand up next to his.

"Now, my dear lady," he murmured softly in her ear, causing her to flush in the darkness. "What do stars do?"

Before she could answer he took a deep breath and exhaled the final word in a gust of warm air.

"_Shine._"

Amalda gasped in delight. As Mr. Wonka blew the sand slowly into the sky, it began to glow with its own ethereal light. It seemed to find its own breeze as it escaped the shelter of Mr. Wonka's hand and floated unerringly upwards. At last, between one blink and the next, Amalda no longer saw a trail of glowing dust but a sea of sparkling stars overhead.

"That's incredible," she said breathlessly.

All around the Chocolate Room, other tracks of starlight were beginning to join Mr. Wonka's. "Now your turn," he told Amalda, and when she hesitated he wrapped his sandy hand around her own, steadying it. "Take a breath," he instructed and she inhaled reflexively. "Now…just blow."

Amalda blew, and it became a hooting laugh as her star candy obediently lit up and began its trek to the sky. The strange noise that resulted from laughing and blowing at the same time made her laugh harder, and the last of her star candy left in small puffs and clusters.

"Well," Mr. Wonka said sounding bemused, "I suppose the Oompa Loompa's will be charting some new constellations."

Amalda looked up and realized that the clusters of star candy had managed to stay together even in the sky. She giggled quietly. They fell into a comfortable silence, standing side by side, staring at the new stars and listening to the murmur of the other women exclaiming over the feat. Their hands were still clasped together, half lifted towards the sky, and Mr. Wonka's hand had drifted from her shoulders to settle at her waist.

The lights came back on, more gradually this time, as if to simulate an actual sunrise, and Amalda and Mr. Wonka became aware of their intimate embrace at the same moment. Before Mr. Wonka could do more than look startled, Amalda was already turning away, studying the grass under the pretense of looking for her shoes. Her face burned with humiliation. She was acting no better than that horrid Mary Sue! She didn't want to see Mr. Wonka's face when he decided to place Amalda in that same category.

She took her time fiddling with her shoes and when she dared look up again, Mr. Wonka was staring out at the chocolate waterfall, hands clasped before him on his cane, seemingly unconcerned. She wasn't fooled.

"Mr. Wonka," she began, and saw his grip tighten on his cane. She chose her words carefully. "I have the greatest respect for you and Mr. Bucket, and would be honored to take any position in your factory that you have available." She couldn't resist adding, "Even if it's only as a...a star farmer!"

Mr. Wonka half turned to look at her, a smile teasing the edges of his lips. He tipped his hat at her and strode away, cane swinging jauntily.

Amalda breathed a sigh of relief and thought that maybe, just maybe, she hadn't ruined her chances.

Neither of them noticed Ms. Mary Sue Weston fuming silently behind the snozzberry bushes.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Not abandoned, lovely readers, not abandoned! I've been by my own personal chocolate factory arriving in true fairy tale fashion, out of the blue and against seemingly impossible odds. Without going into detail, one day in the middle of it all, the following conversation occurred between me and my husband, who knows I write but doesn't pay attention to what:

Him: Remember what happened to the person who suddenly got everything they always wanted? _(after a pause while I gape at him) _What? Don't you remember that line from Willy Wonka? So are you going to live happily ever after now or what?

Me: Maybe...or maybe it'll be like Tangled and I get to go find a new dream.

So...forgive me for making you wait! Happy endings are a little distracting. This is a little shorter than usual, but I wanted to get something out there so you knew I was still alive.

* * *

Chapter 6

Mary Sue Weston was accustomed to having her way. The single child of a fantastically rich man whose wife had died in childbirth, Mary Sue had been spoiled silly since the day she was born. Whatever she desired, she had merely to ask, or point, or give any sort of other indication that she might be interested in possessing the object in question.

And right now that object was a man.

Why this man? Well, there was nothing in the world that Mary Sue enjoyed more than upstaging her friends, who were all just as spoiled and silly as she was and who had all married equally silly, doting men. The list of eligible bachelors who fit Mary Sue's requirements of being more rich, more famous and more handsome than any of her friends' beaus was extremely short. Mr. Wonka had not even been on the list until the newspapers turned the second Golden Ticket contest into a scandal. _That_ was exactly what Mary Sue needed to trounce her friends' egos once and for all.

Procuring her ticket had been easy enough - most things are when you can throw an unlimited amount of money at them - but Mr. Wonka had proved not to be the sort of man who would so easily fall for a beautiful woman who could offer him anything his heart desired.

Mary Sue tapped her foot irritably. She had made a mistake by ruling out any of the other women as real competition. Mr. Wonka had certainly looked cozy enough with that mousy brunette earlier. What could he possibly see in _her_? Regardless, it moved Ms. Amalda McCaine to the top of Mary Sue's list of people to Eliminate.

She was quite good at Eliminating people. Some of them were easily driven off when they realized they were competing with someone of such wealth, talent and beauty. Some of them could be bought off with her daddy's money. Some of them could be blackmailed, which Mary Sue did _not_ enjoy, simply because it required the kind of political maneuvering that she would rather not wrap her brain around around when there were more important things, like flirting, that should be happening.

No, the method that was her personal favorite was sabotage. There was something so thrilling about the expression on a person's face when they realized their dreams had slipped from their grasp without them even realizing it and were now hopelessly beyond recovery. Even better when they were aware of who had caused their downfall and knew that they dared take no retaliatory action against her.

As soon as she saw the quaint little boat appear that would take them to their next stop on the tour, Mary Sue knew _exactly_ how she could sabotage Ms. McCaine. It was a more daring action than she would usually take, but everyone had read the stories about what the children who had visited the factory had gone through. Her revenge would seem almost ordinary in comparison.

* * *

Charlie was still answering the women's questions and congratulating himself for how well the star candy demonstration had went when he saw that Mr. Wonka had summoned the boat. Politely cutting off Ms. Lauper's stubborn protests that such as thing was simply not possible, he led everyone over to where Mr. Wonka and Ms. McCaine were waiting. Charlie eyed the two of them uncertainly. It was unusual for Mr. Wonka to let himself be alone with any of the applicants.

Ms. Weston appeared from nowhere as they neared the riverbank, startling Ms. McCaine and causing Mr. Wonka to frown. But she seemed content to watch the approaching boat for the moment, merely standing to one side of Ms. McCaine, the side furthest from Mr. Wonka and still a safe distance from Charlie.

Ms. Stolp stepped up next to Charlie. "I read about that boat in the papers," she murmured, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is it...quite safe?"

"Of course it is," Mr. Wonka replied with a smile, rapping the side of the boat with his cane. "You know how children exaggerate."

Ms. Stolp looked at Charlie. "Did you exaggerate?"

"No," he said, and climbed aboard. He could feel five sets of eyes on his back and caught a glimpse of a smirk that Mr. Wonka was not trying very hard to hide. As he settled himself at the back of the boat, he saw that all of the women were regarding it with various degrees of fear and uncertainty.

Mr. Wonka surveyed them for the moment, then held out his hand to the woman next to him. "Ms. McCaine, if you please?" He quirked an eyebrow and Charlie swore there was a bit of a challenge in his voice.

Ms. McCaine gulped, then seemed to rally. She met Mr. Wonka's gaze stubbornly and firmly placed her hand in his. He helped her into the boat and she immediately moved to the far side, sitting on a bench near the front and staring down at the chocolate river. Mr. Wonka winked at Charlie before turning back to offer his hand to the next lady.

It was Ms. Weston, favoring him with a simpering smile and eagerly reaching for his hand. Mr. Wonka's face went carefully blank, the pleasant expression frozen in place. To Charlie's surprise, Ms. Weston merely stepped daintily into the boat, with no shenanigans that involved tripping and falling into Mr. Wonka's arms or finding some other excuse to cling to him any longer than was necessary. To his intense relief, she chose the empty bench between Charlie and Ms. McCaine instead of trying to sit by him. One experience with Ms. Weston was more than enough for Charlie.

There was a bit of a fuss getting Ms. Lauper and Ms. Aranack into the boat. Neither felt it was a safe or reliable way to travel, especially _inside a building_. Ms. Stolp finally shoved them both across the tiny gap between shore and ship, bustling aboard after them with a huff of frustration and some pointed comments to Mr. Wonka about the type of people who were appropriate for this sort of place.

Finally, Mr. Wonka settled himself on the bench next to Charlie and gave the Oompa Loompa's manning the paddle wheel a nod. They set off at a leisurely pace, and Charlie gave a quiet sigh of relief and heard it echoed by Mr. Wonka. "Just remember, this was _your_ idea," the man murmured. Charlie shot a wry grin at his mentor.

Nervous whispers sprang up among the women as the boat approached the infamous tunnel. As a group, they slid closer together on the narrow benches. Ms. Stolp wrapped one arm around one of the poles that ran down the side of the boat and Ms. Lauper, who was sitting behind her, quickly imitated the motion. Ms. Aranack was all but clinging to Ms. Lauper's arm, much to the other woman's consternation. Ms. McCaine and Ms. Weston both craned their necks over the edge of the boat to get a better look at the approaching darkness.

Charlie gripped the bottom of his seat with both hands, noting that Mr. Wonka merely sat calmly, arms resting on his cane. "No singing this time," he hissed.

And then it began.


End file.
